The Reclamation
by Yr
Summary: This is a TCO fic where Briar comes home after three years but his return is not as void of events as Emelan comes under close scrutiny by unwelcome outside forces
1. Returning

Disclaimer: Obviously the characters and general themes concerning the characters are all property of Tamora Pierce. The only intellectual property I own in the fic is the plot. 

N.B. As this is my first story ever I would really appreciate reviews as well as constructive criticisms and comments.

RETURNING Chapter 1: 

The wind slowly rose in a weak crescendo as the sun set yet again on another gloomy day. For the young mage, even the atmosphere could not destroy the happy occasion. Clad in shirts and trousers of an off-white hue, which seemed to hug his wiry frame, his faint tan made him seem a foreigner in these parts. Reality was, Briar Moss was born in Sotat but had spent most of his life in Emelan. His slightly darkened complexion was a result of the prolonged stay firstly in Chammur and later in distant Yanjing. Although usual in his build Briar was no novice to his art, already achieving great fame and full mage-hood along with his foster sisters.

In contrast to his relaxed form, his teacher was in a constant fidget to locate particularly interesting plant forms taking no heed of the fact that they were finally returning to Winding Circle after their three year sojourn. On his other side, Evvy was grumbling yet again about the trip.

"Are we there yet" she whined for what Briar considered to be the fiftieth time since lunch. "My backside is really chafing on this horse. You would think that the saddle would help but they had to make it as hard as a rock!"

Rosethorn as always close enough to eavesdrop on the interchange deliberately moved away to let Briar deal with his own problems.

"You don't mind sitting on rocks so why complain", he snapped back at his student with a faint smile.

Chagrined that he had found the flaw in her words, Evvy settled back down but not without her continual grumbling.

"Your student is right though", Rosethorn intoned as she slowly edged to his side. "Without this gloomy weather for the past month we should have arrived at Discipline al least two days ago. This and all the constant bandit attacks have just makes it harder to move.

"Don't worry", Briar replied, "we have all those protection balls ready and Evvy has the stone path around her."

"It's not that. What's worrying me is the attacks. They all use the same strategy and somehow we don't see them until they've almost touched our warding.

Briar had noticed it too. It wasn't usual that bandits had mages in their arson but the attacks suggested forms of magic at play. Still he dismissed the troubling though as he remembered where he was going. Three years was really too long to be away from home and the circle. Even with the three girls plus the brat he was hauling home to torture him, once he got there seemed a small price to pay. Tris and Daja unfortunately were at least another month away in their travels so that left Sandry and Lark at home.

He was just mulling over Sandry's expression when he arrived, when Evvy's shriek broke through his reverie. Two men with drawn swords and masking hoods had leapt onto the road. Then the ground literally exploded under his horse…


	2. First Confrontations

Disclaimer: Once again Tamora Pierce owns the characters and most related themes. My plot however is through own thought. FIRST CONFRONTATIONS Chapter 2: 

All around them, explosions rocked the ground as the two hooded figures ran towards them, slashing at the rising vine wall that Rosethorn was rapidly growing. Scrambling out from under his dead horse, Briar only hesitated long enough to throw a sachet from his pouch before adding his own magic into the web.

A wall of vines ten feet tall rose from the earth, but the explosions constantly left large gaping holes in the lattice. "Where was that mage! It had to be a mage, a fire mage, that was leaving such damage in the area" he winced as another explosion tore a hole in the plants next to him. The vines were grown to resist destruction but even Briar could feel the pain they were in. Even magically enhanced seeds only had its certain limits. In desperation, Briar threw a red pack and sent the plants in to kill. No matter what the mage was doing, at least that would stop the two swordsmen, unless one of them was the mage.

"No, not one of them" thought Briar seeing that they were not surrounded in the magical aura he could see, "but still too dangerous to ignore".

Viciously sharp needles began sprouting form the ground as his magic took hold. A loud cry of pain rippled through the explosions from one the attackers before his body was torn open by the masses of thorns in a sickening red shower. Soaked with the blood of his companion, the second swordsman retreated as the thorns searched for another target to impale.

Looking up from his defensive position he was Evvy struggling to rise beside her dead horse. Tough as she was, a fall from the saddle had taken her out of the entire battle. Covered with many scratches and an exceptionally large bruise on her right cheek she had obviously been showered by some of the debris even with her horse shielding her. Nearby, a tired looking Rosethorn was limping slightly across to where Evvy struggled.

Two horses dead and one of the pack mules slowly ebbing away. Frustration began eating at him. Two days ago Rosethorn had said, they should have gotten back to Winding circle. Now with their transport crippled outside the border their only chance would be to hire new horses in the city: another day wasted. Too tired and angry to even care what Rosethorn would scream about his language, Briar growled loudly the vilest oath he could muster as he bent towards his own horses corpse to retrieve his mage kit. As he did, a thin blur streaked in the side of this vision before the pain of the foot long shaft coursed through his side. Glancing up from his position, he managed a glimpse of the distant yeoman before darkness enfolded him…


	3. Convergance of Survival

Disclaimer: Obvious, Routine and boring. Characters and setting are not mine.

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CONVERGANCE OF SURVIVAL: Chapter 3

Pasco was leaving from Yazmín Hebet's classes for the afternoon. Back cramping and legs aching, he was somehow feeling extremely vitalised. Yazmín was a fair teacher unless you crossed her and them she would land on you with both feet. It had been three years since Lady Sandrilene had recognised the distinct magical aura surrounding him and had decided to teach him its uses. Though he had managed to grow and develop his powers in that time, she still was the teacher and he the student. Her fame and renowned strength in the realm still awed him constantly.

Stepping away from the school and heading down Festival Street towards Fletcher Circle he fluently skipped and tapped a few simple steps before adding a small but elegant flourish. Instantly the warmth of his magic enclosed him and he grinned in delight. Recently, Sandry had allowed him to practise hie magic without her supervision and he was taking full advantage of his freedom. Abruptly, two figures approached him in a staggered rush. Pasco eyed them warily. They seemed ragged enough but even appearances could be deceiving, as he had realised with the unmagicking mage. As they pulled back their cloaks, he could see that they were both women and by the many scratches and bruises on their faces, they seemed to have undergone a great ordeal.

"Quick" screamed the younger slim girl, "take us to the nearest healer." 

Her accent was so foreign that he immediately began feeling for the knives secured in his wrist sheathes. It was not that foreigners were not welcome but rather that recently, the border of Emelan had suffered mysterious raids. Rumours had warned of hooded soldiers, reinforced by mages leading the night strikes. Others had told of houses exploding into flames while attackers in strange armour pillaged every house in sight before simply melting away into the night. Obviously, skirmishes meant impending war and consequently spy infiltration was of major concern. Coming from a family of harriers who tolerated no crime, he was not about to leave them alive if they turned out to be part of the enemy's intelligence.

Slowly, the older women advanced slowly she was the defensive gleam in his eye. Pasco, even with his fair height advantage over her felt dominated by her presence and was extremely uncomfortable for it. The commanding eyes dared him to question her authority. 

"I am a Dedicate mage of Winding Circle council and my party was attacked a few hours ago neat the border," she announced. "My student has been wounded and he needs a healer now!"

Instinctively looking behind her, Pasco realised that a horse and two pack mules were with them: not a particularly good entourage to be with out of Emelan. It was then he spied, slouched on the horse, an unconscious boy around Sandry's age with the shaft of an arrow protruding above the hip. Luckily, the arrow did not seem to be tipped with poison or he would not be still alive. Blood stained his trousers, which surprisingly did not seemed to wrinkle no matter which direction the horse jerked him. 

"Hang on," said Pasco rushing back towards school. "Mila have mercy" a travelling Dedicate being attacked just outside the border. It was a wonder that young man was still alive. It must of taken them hours just to reach this place.  He had just enough time to run through the door and turn the first corner in the school before slamming straight into Yazmín.

"Now what are you doing back in here, I thought you were going to the Crooked Crow to meet up with Lady Sandrilene," she said in a level tone with a very level, disapproving stare.

"Some fierce Dedicate is outside trying to find a healer for her student. Yazmín it's an arrow wound and I need directions.

Startled by this sudden outburst her only response was to give him his required direction before he hurried back out. Lady Sandrilene was not going to be happy about this but it would seem she would have his head if he ever shirked such a responsibility. Abruptly she realised that the entire class was still waiting for her return. Turning around she smiled faintly. Ever since the capture of the Dihanur assassins, his powers have not been put to use for any special purpose and he was growing lax. Some responsibility would not hurt the lad. Realising her train of thought she glowered guiltily; treating the wounded student as an exercise for Pasco's talents without thought for the wounded. The mage council would come crashing onto her for such superficial thought. They were highly protective of all their mages and potential mage students. Looking out of a nearby window she saw Pasco running up to a young girl and an older woman who were leading a horse with a tall but unconscious boy slumped over in the saddle, the huge shaft of a longbow arrow still embedded deep in his side

Pasco ran down Festival Street with the others in tow. He had to direct them down to the end of the road to the only local healer. Sourly he muttered silently that Sandry wasn't going to be happy and how his mother was going to lecture him for keeping a noble waiting. Even at fifteen years of age, Zahra Acalon still dominated him in every aspect of harriering and still liked to remind him even though he was training to be a mage, his harrier heritage will always be a part of him. At least Vani had stopped beating him after that…incident… with Gran'ther three years ago.

The moan from the passenger on the horse made him turn in concern. Pasco was sure that no poison laced the arrow but fresh blood spouted from the wound with almost every stray jerk of the horse.

Herbal scents greeted his nose as he entered the healer's small shop. Apparently, the Dedicate's mood seemed to lighten a little as she entered after him. Whatever her name was he was not game enough yet to ask, she might decide to bite his head off. As the healer quickly removed the young man's clothing to get at the wound, Pasco spied a metallic chain with something resembling a tree engraved on its surface. Covering his surprise, his mind raced through the possibilities. He had once seen one on the neck of Sandry when she had showed it to a group of uncooperative foreign mages. That thing definitely shut them up when they tested its validity. The thing had to be mage credentials and this man, barely a few years older than he also carried it. He was at equal footing with Lady Sandrilene.

"Thank you for helping my _pahan_. My name is Evumeimei but call me Evvy," intoned the girl. 

He was so surprised to hear he speak from the silence since her outburst earlier on, that he automatically replied, "Pasco Acalon" all the whilst thinking where did she come from to have such a strange accent and what in Mila's name was a _pahan_?

"You're not from around here are you?" he queried almost nonchalantly the hardened his tone slightly, "How did you get caught up with a Winding Circle Dedicate and a young man obviously young for qualified mage."

"They teach me" she replied bluntly in response to his challenge and refused to utter another word. Pasco, frustrated already with his current predicament did not need another provocation and was ready to stare the girl out before the healer came between them while the Dedicate ran off on some important errand.

"No poison in the arrow, but I think it was tipped with a kind of slow acting acid," she announced nervously. "I'm not sure I can stop the bleeding as it gradually keeps chewing into more veins. Even though I don't have magic I don't need it to tell me that this is definitely some magic blend. The only place I suggest you take him is to Winding Circle's Water Temple. I don't know how he could of held out for even this long and I fear that the journey will kill him.

"No" cried the girl "He can't die" as she collapsed into rasping sobs. Pasco was stunned. Harrier mages had encountered many spells but never one in a mixture used as assiduous poison of this form. The attack was not a bandit attack; it had to be an assassination attempt. Who was the young man….


	4. Crossroads

Disclaimer: Tamora Pierce owns virtually all

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CROSSROADS: Chapter 4

Lady Sandrilene hurried down Festival Street with her personal guards Oama and Kwaben warding either sides of her. Something was surely taking up Pasco time and half a notch late was not Yazmín's usual style for disobedience punishment. Usually Pasco complained about having to do more stretches than necessary. She was not particularly worried about her student though irritated with his attitude, but she couldn't really lay blame on him. There were just too many attractions to lure a boy of fifteen away from his timetable. He had probably gone off to watch the visiting Capchen dancers and had lost track of the time as he so often did with exciting foreign dances.

Yazmín's door was answered by the same boy that had answered her when she brought Pasco here for the first time: Wamuko. He grinned broadly as her recognised her and ran back inside the school calling "Noble in the building". Sandry smiled faintly. That had become her customary title in the school and Yazmín came running right away. Whacking Wamuko lightly for his insolence Yazmín stepped lightly and curtsied gracefully before her.

"I suppose you want to know where Pasco went," she sighed. "I let him off on time but it seems that he found a small injured party on the way and took them to the local healer."

"Well at least he is doing something useful," she replied dryly, "Not wasting his time with those street dancers."

"He also said something about mages and Dedicates my lady. I wouldn't know if they had magic but the young man, about your age I'd say, was hurt quite badly. My lady, would you know them, I mean the lad, a younger girl and the fierce Dedicate that Pasco claims."

"Maybe, if they are also from Winding Circle but there are just so many Temple Circles," she replied. "I'd better go find him then. Uncle is still going to be waiting there at Fletcher Circle for lunch and would love you to be there."

From the class beyond came many salacious whistles and other noises. It was no secret that the Duke had a liaison with the famous dancer as there had not been for quite some time now. Discussions were all focused on when the two would exchange vows. Curtsying deeply and blushing slightly, Yazmín nodded her assent before rounding on her class and scowling irritably.

After receiving directions, Sandry rode in that direction hoping that Pasco hadn't yet moved from his position. Oama and Kwaben didn't feel her annoyance and in fact were rather amused.

"The boy is always getting himself into trouble without you to keep him in line," joked Oama. "You didn't have to let him off his permission leash so he could get himself into useless heroics."

Scowling visibly, Sandry nudged her mare ahead of the others and boldly rode to the door of the healer with her guards still chuckling quietly. Stepping into the store she immediately saw Pasco trying to calm a small girl slightly younger than him. Upon seeing her, he quickly stood up and wobbled a bow.

"Lady Sandrilene, I...I .......I  had to bring them here" he shakily began before the small girl stood up fighting back unshed tears.

"My _pahan is dying. Please tell me you can help him," she pleaded._

Instead of feeling compassion, straight away Sandry was startled by her accent and words.

"_Pahan? But that is Chammuran. What can you be doing here in Emelan?" she inquired curious._

"What is even more strange is that the young man injured is a full mage and he can't be that much older than you teacher. I saw that pendant with the tree on his neck," added Pasco.

Suddenly remembering the incidents of Briars last letter, she began to feel afraid.

"Evvy....?" she called in a shaky voice.

The girl's widened eyes gave as much confirmation to her identity as to that of the injured.

"Take me to him now," she commanded feeling breathless.

Feeling her distress, Pasco grabbed her arm to steady her while whispering, "Do you know them?"

"Briar has returned..." 


End file.
